The Hope Series
by jamie2109
Summary: AU. Written Pre HBP. HarryDraco. Warning. Major Angst, with a hopeful ending. Attraction, denial, war, love, death and above all, hope.
1. Chapter 1

Part One: All you have left. 

.o0o.

**Harry.**

Friends tell you that you've changed and you look at them considering whether or not you should tell them exactly why. You know that you've been losing sleep and that you have lost enthusiasm for your schoolwork. Even Quidditch comes a very poor second to thinking about Draco Malfoy. You don't tell them anything though, and they leave even more concerned. You know that you're hurting them but you can't help it. Some things are better left unsaid. Especially when they concern the Boy Who Lived and his feelings for the last person in the world that they would expect him to have feelings for.

Most days, you don't know why you do. He's never given you any indication that he feels anything but contempt for you. He's never given you any reason to hope, but then you'll catch sight of him in an unguarded moment when he thinks no one is watching. You see that face, the one that normally wears a sneer or a superior smirk, restful, and occasionally you see a genuine smile. No malice, no cruelty, just real pleasure, and you wish it had been you that put it there.

For every smirk that he sends your way, you hope that one day, it might actually mean something. You go out of your way to provoke him when you meet him in the halls, in the hope that he might touch you, punch you or something. Anything that might bring your bodies close together, for then you think that surely he would feel the same thumping heartbeat, the same increased breathing, the same desire. When you look deep into his eyes as you're fighting with him, you search for the feelings in there. You never get anything but dislike and anger.

You can remember when he walked close to you to sneer and spit cruel words at you. You have no idea what those words were anymore, because all you can remember is the way his lips moved, and how his breath smelt. He was that close to you that you knew, you just knew that he felt your breath on his skin too. In fact you breathed out harder, just to watch the way his fringe moved over his brow, and a shiver ran up your spine when his eyes widened in surprise at the feel of it.

In some of your darker moments you wonder if that look of surprise is what you base your hope on. Because he was surprised at feeling your breath and he knew it was deliberate. It was only surprise, not anger, nor disgust, just surprise. He avoids all contact with you for weeks after that, even actively withdrawing from altercations and wearing the derision of even his housemates for that, and a little voice inside you tells you that you have affected him somehow. For better or for worse, you don't know, all you know is that things have changed. You can only hope for the better.

The situation worsens when his father comes to Hogwarts to visit. It seems to galvanise him into action and before long, you are back to fighting in the halls, hearing him spit out your name through lips you just want to kiss. You often wonder if you should just take the initiative and kiss him. At least you'd get to do it once before he returned to punching you.

Of course you don't kiss him, that would just give him too much ammunition, but you grow weary of the fight, weary of the hope that seems to dredge the life from you, seems to sap the light from your eyes. Although it is not in your nature to give up, you wonder whether you should. The little ball of hope is gradually being eroded as each day passes, until one day it feels like all hope has faded and disappeared, along with your fight.

That's when he surprises you. When you don't fight back anymore, he slams you up against the wall and yells at you; so close that if you moved in the slightest your lips would touch. Where before, when you still carried hope in your heart you might have moved those few centimetres and kissed him, now you just close your eyes. Whatever hope you carried, seems to have eaten away at the rest of you and you have nothing left. Not even fight.

But then, he kisses you and your eyes open wide in shock. It's over before you know it, but he whispers as he leaves that you should never give up hope.

There's every reason not to believe him and only one reason to believe that he's telling you the truth.

Hope.

Because that's all you have left.

.o0o.

Part Two: Your only Hope. 

.o0o.

**Draco.**

September 1st, 1991. That's the day it started really. The day you realised who you had been talking to in Madam Malkin's shop. He surprised you later at school by rejecting your hand. Of course being a Malfoy, you had expected that everyone knew who you were. But he didn't, and on that day, he earned your respect. Not that you ever, EVER let him know that.

The years pass with the occasional squabble, and you provoke him when you can, because every time you do, you learn something new about him. And, you watch him. As much as you can get away with and as often as the situation allows it. Your carefully masked emotions, learned so well at your father's side, assist you in allowing this, because hate and dislike between you is so much easier to hide behind than respect and friendship.

When in fifth year, he is responsible for putting your father in Azkaban, everything you know about him coalesces into a new picture. The respect you had for him as a person, not the Boy Who Lived, suddenly becomes hope. Your only hope. For the first time you see him as someone that will save you. It scares you so much that over that summer, where you have so much time for yourself without your father around, you take the time to analyse just exactly what it is that you have done by alienating him.

Not only has he become the Wizarding World's hope, he has become your own personal beacon as well. A chance for you to make your own decisions, live according to your own rules. You still don't like him very much, but you accept that you need him. For the next year, you watch closer than before, and despite making vague threats against him, you do nothing, watching as he copes with what you presume is the result of another desperate battle against Voldemort.

In your last year at Hogwarts, things change. Harry goes from mostly ignoring you to provoking you at every opportunity. You're almost flattered by the attention, but because you still manage to come off second – best as usual, you don't feel flattered at all. Not until the day he blew his warm breath across your face. On purpose. Once more he has surprised you, but you are not disgusted by it. After all, you do know how attractive you are, but you are surprised all the same.

Upon reflection, you see that he is indeed an emotional person. Everything he does is laced with passion, from Quidditch to standing up for what he believes. The fights he provoked between you loom clear in your mind, and looking at them from a different angle they now make sense. You take some time to think about what your best course of action should be, because you are not sure of terribly much anymore. Things have become confused and complicated. So, you avoid any confrontations and you make it obvious, so obvious that your housemates comment.

One day you receive a surprise visit from your father. He has of course, bought his way out of Azkaban once more. His visit scares you. He tells you that he wants you to take the mark at the end of your schooling and join him in fighting by Voldemort's side. That's the last thing you want, and your stomach swirls in oily nausea. So once more you look to Harry, wondering how long it has been since you started calling him Harry in your head. You don't want him, but you need him all the same, and so you play his game, because if you can keep his hope alive, then when he saves everyone else, he will save you as well.

Before long you are back to fighting with him, and you can see in his eyes that he wants you. You can see the desire and confusion every time he touches you. There is hope in his eyes, and you think that as long as that is alive then you'll be safe. One day. There are times when you can see the fierce need in him to kiss you, and you prepare yourself for that, but he never does.

Instead, the fight seems to drain from him and he become weary of everything. He hardly fights back anymore and there is no spark of passion in his eyes any longer. That's when something else becomes clear to you. The difference between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. You will take advantage of Harry because you need him. You are a true Slytherin. Harry would rather let his hope die than take something not freely given. Harry is a noble Gryffindor. For a moment you are stunned, and all the names you had ever called the Gryffindor suddenly seem childish and misguided in the face of this.

It angers you in the end though. He's not supposed to just give up like that. Give you up like that. You know that he would never give up the fight against Voldemort like that and you can't have him give up on you either. The next time you see him, you slam him up against the wall and stand so close to him that you're breathing the same air. You yell something at him, but you don't remember what, because all you can see is those eyes of his. Those damned green eyes. You keep yelling at him, hoping to see the fight and the life come back into them, but he closes them.

In a final desperate move, you kiss him, and it's not terrible. You see his eyes spring open as you pull back, and the relief that you feel to see some life return to them is palpable. As you leave you whisper that he should never give up hope.

You still don't like him very much, but you need him. He's your only hope.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Three: Can't stop wanting.

.o0o.

**Harry.**

Your thoughts are in a whirl now. You pinch yourself after he leaves and wonder if it really happened. A sharp nip on your arm confirms that you are not dreaming, it really happened. You can still feel the remnants of his breath across your ear, and the words echo in your head.

_Don't give up hope. _

Against all reason, your heart flutters and you can feel the stirrings of what you think must be hope, because if he kissed you then what you dreamed of and desired may not be without hope after all. Gingerly, you rub the ball of your thumb across your lips, and a smile lifts the corners of your mouth. In truth you can't remember much of the kiss, it was very quick and took you by surprise. But you imagine that you can still feel the imprint of his lips on yours, and if there is one thing that you know, it's that you want it to happen again, and again.

That night in your dorm room your mind enacts a scene over and over. In it, there you are, hands pressed against a wall, either side of Draco's head and you're leaning in to kiss him - thoroughly this time. His hands are lightly resting on your hips, but as you drag your tongue across his lips, his grip tightens. He pulls you close so that your bodies are touching chest to knee, and the flush that heats your body makes you shiver with desire.

Strangely enough, as much as you want him, and try to make your mind play out _that_ scenario, it seems stuck at the languorous kissing. That's still enough to get your heart racing though, and your fingers grip the sheets so hard that your knuckles crack as you try so desperately to refrain from touching yourself.

Sometimes in your dreams you've woken aching and sweaty and breathless in your need, wanting nothing more than to close your hand around yourself and stroke until you come screaming his name and finally feel the need for release abate. But you don't. You don't ever touch yourself like that. Not while you are thinking of him anyway. It seems disrespectful, somehow. There are times when you think you might explode from the intensity of those dreams though, and there are times when you wake too late, sticky and sweaty and smelling of semen. On those nights, you fall asleep again, faintly sick that you have such little control over your subconscious.

This is one of those nights.

When you look at yourself in the mirror the next morning, you see a gleam in your eyes; one that you hadn't realised was missing until you had it back. There's a spring in your step and on your way to breakfast, you don't ignore your friends like you have been for the past weeks. In the Great Hall, while you are eating your sausages and eggs, your eyes scan the tables for the telltale blond head.

He's late, however, and it's not until you are almost finished that he enters the Hall. You find your heart thumping and you're sure that your face becomes so flushed that everyone can see it and know exactly what you are feeling. Your nerves are all jittery and you wonder how the two of you will be now. You watch him, waiting for the instant that he catches your eye, and when he does, it is in that instant that you know he much he has actually raised your hopes again.

Because he all but dashes them with that look.

There was nothing in that look, not even dislike. It was as if he was looking right through you like you did not exist. For an eternity you could search those eyes and not find a single emotion, you think. You're sure the shock must have registered on your face, because he frowns a little and looks away.

Troubled now, you almost get up and leave the Hall, confused and trembling a little from the build up, the anticipation of seeing Draco. The let down was harsh, and all your thoughts tumble around in the echo of your mind. You think that surely your brain has left, shut down, because things, concrete things like what day it is and what it is you have been putting in your mouth, just aren't there any more. All you are left with is the conflicting emotions warring with the emptiness.

Why did he kiss me? Was it all a joke? Was it some part of a cruel plot? Will he kiss me again? You drop your fork onto your plate and have half a mind to go and confront him with those very questions. The thing that stops you is the loud laughter coming from the Slytherin table. When you look once more in that direction, you see that he is laughing with his friends and looking at you. Pain wells in your chest as you think that somehow he has got the better of you in this, as he does not in your physical fights. Of course it was a joke, what else could it be? And now you wonder if Malfoy knew all along how you felt and was using it against you. You know with a certainty, that he will tell everyone.

Unable to sit through the laughter and ridicule, you leave, trying fearlessly to hold your head high and not let the barbs sting. Once you reach the corridor, you slump against the wall, defeated by the stares and laughs and whispers that you are sure are directed at you. When you can push yourself away from the wall, you head to class, disorientated because you can still feel his lips on yours and your knuckles still throb from gripping the sheets so tightly as you tried so determinedly not to touch yourself.

And you can't stop wanting him.

.o0o.

Part Four: For Secrecy.

.o0o.

**Draco.**

Standing at the Entrance to the Great Hall, you pause for a few minutes, just watching Harry. He is looking around the room, searching for someone. You know he's looking for you and whilst there is a certain amount of flattery in that, you curse him anyway, because he's so bloody obvious! You watch as his eyes dart around the room, those damned green eyes, now hopeful. If you had a conscience you might have felt guilty about that kiss and putting that look in his eyes under false pretences, but you don't have a conscience and so you don't feel guilty.

You take a few seconds to reflect on the kiss. At the time you felt that it wasn't as terrible as what you thought it would be to kiss Harry. Not that you had ever thought of kissing him, but if you had, you would have been disgusted you're sure. But, it wasn't terrible, just different. At least it was something that you feel you can face, if your plan is to work and he is to save you.

While you are standing there, Zabini approaches you and tells you that he saw you kiss Potter last night and demands to know what you think you're doing kissing the fucking Boy Who Lived. After the initial shock, you snort and tell him that you're fucking with the Gryffindor's brain, that you had found out he was gay, and thought you'd play along because this was one way that you knew you could beat him. String him along, make him fall for you and dump him like yesterday's rubbish. Which isn't all that far removed from your actual plan anyway, the difference being that you will wait to dump him until after he has saved you from the life that your father had mapped out for you following Voldemort.

Zabini laughs and tells you that you are the sneakiest son of a bitch Slytherin around, and you bask in the admiration for a second before telling him that he must not tell anyone the plan. Garbled reports could get back to your father, and you'd rather not have to explain kissing Harry Potter to him, despite your plan. Especially seeing as he might use it as a way to get you to kill Harry, you add silently. That's the last thing you want. No, this plan was just between Harry and yourself, and now Zabini, but he could be trusted not to say anything, just for the pleasure he would get seeing the Golden Boy crushed.

For secrecy then, you compose your face into a mask of indifference, because you have to stop those green eyes from giving everything away. You walk into the Hall and don't look at Harry directly, but around the room. When you catch his eye you just stare at him, through him, trying not to let any emotion show, although in the end you frown a little because you can see the effect that has on him.

As you sit down, you hear that Zabini has told the rest of Slytherin that he heard Potter was gay, and you join in the laughter, cursing that you didn't tell Zabini to keep that quiet as well. Now Harry will have to deal with that, too. Not that you care, no, that's not in your make up, but it would have made things easier had it not been public knowledge. You want Harry concentrating on two things; yourself and getting rid of Voldemort, not having to defend himself to mindless, narrow minded, ignorant mudbloods.

You watch him and see how he looks to almost fold in on himself and you know he thinks that you are all talking about him and that kiss. He leaves and you give him a few minutes before nodding to Zabini and following him. He makes a pathetic figure stumbling off towards class and, sighing, you run after him, surprising yourself that you're running. You catch his shoulder and spin him around to face you.

His eyes pierce through you and despite yourself you cringe. The anguish and hurt you see in them doesn't surprise you. It is not going to be easy explaining all this to him, but you try anyway. He's too important to you. Blushing, oddly enough, you tell him that Zabini saw the kiss, and you've dealt with it, but he had already told people that Harry was gay. He's furious but you can see the need still burning in his eyes. He wants to believe you, wants to believe that it wasn't your fault. You can feel that he wants to touch you.

So, you tell him that whatever happens between you, it must stay a secret, because if your father ever found out he would kill you. Harry tells you forcefully that he would never let that happen, and you smile gently at him, because you know he will be your hero after all. You wonder whether or not you need to kiss him again, but you don't get to make the decision because he kisses you. This time you get to know what it feels like for Harry to be kissing you, and before you can stop yourself, you're kissing him back. It really isn't terrible at all.

His lips are chapped, but the flicker of his tongue across your lips carries the faint taste of his breakfast, and all you can do is open your mouth and let him in. Until your common sense kicks in that is and you pull back a little breathlessly. To cover, you tell him that his lips are chapped, and he looks at you in surprise and replies that lip gloss is for girls. Imperiously, you snort and tell him that chapstick isn't and if he wants any more kisses then he should get some. You can't have him damaging your perfect lips after all.

Footsteps further down the corridor alert you to the fact that you are in a public place and so you step further apart. He smiles at you with those damned green hopeful eyes, tells you that in the interests of secrecy you had better remember to fling insults at him, and then walks off, no longer stumbling, but confident and sure of himself. You give yourself a small smile and tell yourself that the plan is working, and lightly rub your thumb across your lips still astonished at yourself for kissing him back – and not hating it.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Five: In need.

.o0o.

**Harry.**

You're wearing a ridiculously silly grin after that kiss, and are still so surprised at yourself for being so daring, but very gratified that Draco seemed to melt under your lips. You think things are definitely looking up and your mind drifts imagining how the two of you might be together. It doesn't seem so disrespectful now.

When you finally enter the classroom half hard and still with that silly grin on your face, what you see there wipes it away, and the dread feeling in the pit of your stomach kills any feelings of happiness you had. You had forgotten that Zabini was spreading the news of your sexual preference around the school, but now it hits home with full force. Someone has written on the board at the front of the class – _'Potter is a fag'_ and has drawn a rather graphic stick figure picture of someone, obviously yourself, fucking an anonymous boy.

You almost can't believe that these students, most of whom are your friends, can be so callous. They are all laughing at your discomfiture and you almost turn and run, but you are not a brave Gryffindor for nothing, and so you don't. Instead you walk to your seat and ignore everyone, quietly wondering why you are even thinking of bothering to save the Wizarding World by becoming a murderer if the same narrow-minded ignorant prejudices will abound.

Despondently you finish classes for the day, each one becoming harder to bear, the jeers and taunts far outweighing the gestures of support you receive, and even the odd proposition or two. By nightfall, you have even forgotten that you kissed Draco and that he kissed you back, his taunts and insults make you see red, they seem so real and intentional. As you throw yourself down onto your bed, you finally let go the emotions that have been building all day. You sob great tears into your pillow and wish you had never been born.

Things continue along like this for weeks but gradually the taunts die away. Well most of them do. Only Malfoy seems to continue with his, provoking you intolerably, until you crack and throw yourself at him, punching him in the stomach as you both fall to the ground. Your face is red with anger and you are shaking, because he kissed you back damnit and now… things are back to where they were before any kisses.

When you are pulled apart by Snape and both given detention, your anger turns dangerous and you feel your body turn cold with it. You look at Snape's face with a shudder and see concern there instead of usual intense dislike, and the cutting insult that was about to come from your lips is halted. It's then that you realise that the cold is different. It is the kind of cold that gives you goose pimples and makes the hair on the back of your neck start to rise. It is a warning that something isn't quite right. So, you ask what the matter is, to be told that Professor Dumbledore wants to see you immediately.

You nod and with a glance at Draco, you head off to the Headmaster's office. Half an hour later, you stumble almost blindly back to the Common Room. You have until morning, and then you must join with the Order and attack a Death Eater camp they have found. They think that Voldemort will be there and so they insist that you accompany them. You have never been so scared in your life. The last thing on your mind is detention with Snape. You doubt you'll even return from this anyway, so there is no need to worry about detention.

You think it's fate that when you enclose yourself in your bed, with the drapes charmed for silence because you think you might spend the night awake, restless and in tears, you find Draco sitting at the end of your bed. For the longest time, you look at each other and then wordlessly you fall into his arms. He catches you and holds you close. He asks you no questions and you don't think to ask why he's here, how he knows that you need him, or even how he got in, you're just grateful that he is.

He holds you gently, awkwardly at first, as if he's not sure of what he should do. When you finally relax into his arms, he does too with a sigh. Then you feel tentative lips on your forehead, they send fire through your scar and you almost whimper from the contact. Haltingly, you tell him of what will happen in the morning, of how scared you are that you won't survive. You are surprised when he clutches you tighter and his lips caress your face, brow, eyes, nose, and finally they claim your own in a fierce kiss that takes your breath away in its intensity.

Before you think about what you're doing you stretch out on your bed, pulling Draco down beside you. Your legs wrap themselves around his and you hang onto him for dear life, aware that whatever it is between the two of you is still so very new, but not caring, just needing. You spend the next half an hour searching the inside of his mouth with your lips and tongue, exploring the shapes and textures of his face with your fingertips and lips, and traversing the length and hollows of his neck and throat with your mouth and your teeth.

You are unaware of the noises you make, but you know that his sighs are like nectar to you, and too soon he stops and pulls back to look at you. He looks flushed, is breathing heavily, and his lips are swollen from your kisses. In that moment you think he is quite possibly the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. He tells you that he knows you will return from this battle, he has every confidence that you will. He says that you are too strong, too brave and too clever to be beaten by some stupid Death Eater. Then he cradles you in his arms and rocks you to sleep. For some reason, you believe him and you want nothing more than to lie here, safe in his arms forever.

.o0o.

Part Six: Too soon.

.o0o.

**Draco.**

When you follow Harry to class a few minutes after he kisses you, and see what some student has written on the board, you curse Zabini all over again. Then, still astounded that you hadn't hated that kiss, you think that maybe the ridicule that Harry will suffer might give you some breathing space to think about it. So, you join in with the laughter and the taunts and provoke him at every opportunity. You must be seen to do this anyway, to keep up appearances after all, because to go easy on Harry would arouse suspicion and that's the last thing you need.

You think that you'll wait until all the fuss dies down before you try to see him again to continue with your plan, and you hope that not too much ground will be lost. In the meantime, you examine why you kissed him back and why it felt… good. You had never kissed or been kissed by a boy before Harry, not like that anyway, so you really have nothing to compare it to, but it had felt nice. Well, nice enough to let yourself feel that making Harry fall for you so that he will save you might not be all that bad after all. Not that you like him of course, but you need him.

After a few weeks and the fuss has begun to die down, you make the mistake of pushing Harry too far and he catches you with a good hit to the stomach as he throws himself at you, angry and red-faced. Then as you are dragged apart and given detention, you catch Snape's face and it's almost like you can hear the atmosphere change. Something has happened. Something big. As Harry goes off to see Dumbledore, you wrack your brain for a way to find out what has occurred. To see such a look of concern on Snape's face, whom you know with certainty hates Harry, means that the world as you know it is about to change.

Short of declaring an interest in Harry, or openly opting out of the life your father mapped out for you, both of which are completely out of the question, you discover that there is no way to find out what is going on. The only way is to somehow sneak into Gryffindor Tower and wait for him. So, you bribe a first year and threaten that you'll hex him into next week if he tells anyone, and you sit on his bed and wait.

When he arrives looking totally broken and lost, you know. There is a battle coming. It makes you panic. It's too soon, you tell yourself. Harry isn't bound to you enough yet; he doesn't care enough about you yet. Your training keeps your face unreadable, but inside, your stomach is swirling and you think your wonderful idea for Harry to save you may all come undone. The next thing you know is that you find your arms full of the Gryffindor and as a reflex action you catch him and hold him close to you. It feels strange to hold Harry like this, not unpleasant, just strange and when you feel him relax it bolsters your confidence. You can still use what time there is before he goes, to cultivate what you do have into something more.

The tentative kiss you place on his forehead makes your lips tingle and you wonder if it's from the scar that your lips caressed, or if it's just Harry, or if it's your imagination. He tells you what he must do come the morning and how scared he is. You think that maybe you are just as scared as Harry is. You need him to come back. You need more time to make him yours. Some other battle at some future date can have him, but for now he is yours.

Kissing Harry has become decidedly interesting, you decide as you are lying next to him and his tongue and lips and teeth are all over your face and throat. He clings to you and, for the plan of course, you enthusiastically kiss him back and are astonished at the sounds that emerge from your throat. The kissing is becoming more and more pleasurable, his lips are soft but demanding, his tongue smooth and insistent and despite yourself you can feel your whole body begin to respond.

That's enough to break the kissing and you stop, because this is too close, too intimate and just too… much. He looks disheveled from your kisses and you think that something inside you might break if you keep looking into those eyes. You need some time to breathe, to think, and to just not feel anymore. Besides, Harry needs to be reassured that he will win, he needs his fears allayed and he needs his hope reinforced. So, you do what you have to and tell him that he is too strong, too brave and too clever to be beaten by any stupid Death Eater and you rock him in your arms until he falls asleep.

Some time later you gently, disentangle yourself from his arms and raise yourself up off the bed to stand and look down at him peacefully sleeping. There is a certain pride in seeing him sleep, looking like he has no worries in the world. You did that, you tell yourself with a small smile. You made him feel safe enough to sleep. With the weight of the world on his young shoulders, you made him feel secure. There is still a frown on your face though as you make your way back to the Slytherin dorms, and your own sleep is nowhere near as peaceful as Harry's.

Come morning, you look and feel like shit and so you beg off classes. There is no way you are going to be able to concentrate anyway, not with Harry off fighting somewhere – and possibly dying. There is still much apprehension in you that Harry might not come back. If you gave yourself permission to think about things logically you would see that if Harry did win this battle and defeat Voldemort, then he will already have saved you. If you gave yourself permission to look a little deeper then you might also see that the reason you want Harry to come back is that you want him to come back to you. But then, you never have thought terribly logically when it came to Harry, and so those admissions go unacknowledged.

You spend the day lying on your bed or pacing the dorm room wondering what it is like for Harry. You imagine the hell of battle, or you try to because you have never taken part in one, and you bite your nails down with worry. There are images of Harry lying dead in a field somewhere, they flash past you with annoying frequency until you shake your head and determine to think positively. Then comes a picture of Harry standing victoriously alone on a black and smoky field of battle. That's a better picture and you think that after all, Harry would rather rule that day in hell, than not fight at all and spend his life living under the threat of death.

With that comforting picture stored in the front of your mind, you settle back to wait, and to hope.

.o0o.

**A/N:** Taken from Joseph Delaney's The Spook's Apprentice. "It was the kind of cold that gives you goose pimples and makes the hair on the back of your neck start to rise. It was a warning that something wasn't quite right." Page 23.

A quote from John Milton - 'Better to rule a day in hell, than to serve an eternity in heaven.'


	4. Chapter 4

Part Seven: Fire.

.o0o.

**Harry.**

The next morning when Professor Dumbledore wakes you and you find Draco gone, it saddens you slightly. There is something you wanted to say to him before you left. You might never have another chance to say it, and you thought that he should know after all. You need to thank him for helping you sleep. You want to tell him that he has given you hope and a determination to return, and you want to tell him that you are not afraid any more. You have someone to come back to, you have a reason to survive. You tell yourself that even if he doesn't feel as strongly as you do, you don't care because there is something there, and that's better than the nothing you had before.

Swallowing your disappointment you head off with the team of Aurors to an old mansion that supposedly harbours the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Some, like Ron's dad who are attached to the Order accompany you, which is a comfort. As soon as you arrive, you know that Voldemort is not there, you can feel through your scar that he is elsewhere, and there is almost relief now in your demeanor. Now, you know you shall return to Draco – this time anyway – because no stupid Death Eater is ever going to get the better of you.

Still, you cannot sit by and watch as the Aurors rout the Death Eaters that are there, and so you join in, using every defense spell you managed to learn or teach yourself through the DA club you are still running. Whilst protecting yourself with shielding spells, you also let loose a few damaging spells of your own. The aim of course is to capture these followers of Voldemort, but in the heat of battle the lines that divide what is acceptable to use for capture, become blurred and things escalate, and turn dark and life threatening.

The spells that begin as either stunning spells or binding spells quickly change to spells like _'Crucio'_, as the Death Eaters fight back, attempting to maim and destroy their attackers. You see Arthur Weasley go down in a scream of agony and your own vision becomes tinged with the red heat of anger. Throwing yourself into the action, things begin to get a bit hazy and the very walls of the mansion begin to shake. Windows explode and light globes flicker. From somewhere off in the distance you can hear Dumbledore entreating you to calm down, but it falls on deaf ears. Your magic is too strong and too angry to back down now and the pathetic Death Eater spells just bounce off you. One by one, and without the aid of your wand, you do no more than look at each Death Eater and he becomes a writhing pile of robes on the ground, his wand disintegrating in his hands.

By the time the last Death Eater has been disarmed and bound by the rest of the team, you are shaking uncontrollably and the tension is beginning to subside, leaving you to face the destruction you wreaked. You hadn't killed any of the Death Eaters, but you were so close to lowering yourself to their level, that you wonder if there's a dark side to you after all. You had wanted to kill them for what they did to Mr. Weasley. He is alive, you discover to your relief, but he is weak and seriously injured and he is helped to Apparate back to St. Mungo's for treatment.

There is a comforting hand on your shoulder and you look up to see Dumbledore reassuring you with a look that only those experienced in war can give. The tremors of shock set in and you fall to your knees, hang your head and let the tears fall. They fall for your loss of innocence, your terror at your own loss of control and the sense of failure that you feel because you know that you will have to lose control like that at least one more time.

Underneath it all, you feel an intense need for Draco's arms around you again. Somehow he took away your fear last night and you need that once more. A part of you wonders if he will still have any time for you, after he finds out the way that you so nonchalantly seemed to hurt people. You think he might become afraid that you will hurt him if one day you lose control, and to be honest with yourself, you don't know that you won't. A sudden thought pierces your heart. What if one of the Death Eaters you hurt today was Draco's father?

The day has become so confusing, so draining and so horror laden that you are not really sure of anything any more, other than the need to see Draco. You need to know if he will still trust you, you need to show him he can trust you not to hurt him. And you need him to take away the pain of discovering that you can be as ruthless and cruel as those you fight.

It takes another hour to clean up and remove all the Death Eaters from the scene, and you make sure to remove every mask and you note with a mixture of relief and disappointment that Malfoy Senior is not amongst the prisoners. That is one thing that you will not have to explain to Draco. Totally exhausted, you finally follow Dumbledore back to school and make your way to your dorm, so tired that you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Your need to see Draco is burning still, but you know that unless you rest first, you will do something silly like fall asleep mid-sentence or something equally mortifying. It's still a short while before lunch and yet you feel like you have been awake forever. As you throw yourself down on your bed, only one thought makes its way through the lethargy; Draco.

Sometime later you are awakened by a voice saying, "Thank God you're alright Harry", and in your befuddled half awake state you smile, because it is Draco. His arms hug you so tightly you think you might stop breathing, but you don't care, because it is Draco. When he lets you go and searches your face, you can see how worried he's been because he looks like shit. So you smile and tell him that, earning yourself a cursed growl and his lips covering yours, and you surrender to the sweetness of his demands.

He asks you what happened and so, slowly, you tell him everything that you can remember and you look for the doubt and the worry and the fear that you are sure you will see there on his face. All you see is disappointment that Voldemort wasn't there so that you could have finished him off as well. When you ask him if he's not worried that you can become so ruthless and cruel, he looks at you in surprise. He tells you that of course he's not worried, you did what you had to do. You are still not convinced, and you push him down onto the bed proper and pin him to the mattress.

He looks up at you, a combination of expectation and the sexiest fucking smile you have ever seen, on his face. And there is no fear there as you search his eyes and tell him that you need him to take away the horror and the pain. You want to feel safe and secure and trusted and loved all at once and he is the only one who can do that for you. He nods, swallowing, and you almost whimper as your lips meet once more, needy and passionate. He gasps as your mouths join and your hands rip open his shirt so you can feel and touch his skin.

You're already hard and burning for him, but you take your time kissing every inch of his chest, mouthing and biting at his nipples, making him groan and run his hands through your hair. When his chest is slick with your ministrations you work your way lower to delve into his navel and that earns you a squeak that you know you will always remember. You've never done this before, but instinct and a desire just to love him takes over and reverently you undo his trousers and push them down along with his underwear, to free his erection.

You look up at him, the fire of your need burning bright in your eyes and you see an answering need in his. There are pulses spreading through your body that you have never felt before and your blood is thumping in your head and your lungs are working so hard just to keep you breathing. In that moment, you know that what you feel for Draco is as intense a feeling as anything you are ever likely to feel, and that you want to spend the rest of your days making him look just like he does right now.

He cries and arches into you as you take him into your mouth and begin to suck gently. This is all the confirmation you need that he feels something for you in return and as you lovingly touch him and lick him and trace your tongue along the width and breadth of his straining, weeping erection, you hold his eyes prisoner to your own.

You widen your mouth and let him fill you until you have to take time to ensure that you don't gag. When you have adjusted, you groan loudly, because nothing has ever felt this right, nothing has ever made you feel as wanted as this. The tremors spread through his body from your groan and you know by the look on his face that he is about to come. So you move back a little and suck harder, reaching down with your eyes and your mouth into his soul and rip his orgasm from him, leaving him shaken and trembling. The intimacy of the situation and the sight of Draco as he comes shatter any last doubts and you fall shuddering, untouched, into your own completion

When you have sucked him dry and his body has ceased trembling, you gently kiss his inner thighs and hips, chest and throat before claiming his lips once more. You tell him that you love him and hold him close to you, not expecting any response, just satisfied that he at least knows how you feel, because love is not a fire to be shut up in a soul. It needs the telling to breathe and live and flourish.

He has taken away your pain and he has given you something to live for. He has given you hope.

.o0o.

Part Eight: Admission.

.o0o.

**Draco.**

It's not until Zabini stamps into the room, muttering about how lucky the fucking Boy Who Lived is, that your stomach unclenches and you realise just how worried you had been. When you ask how he knows, he says that Dumbledore made an announcement at lunch that Harry had made it back to school unharmed, and it was a wonder that you hadn't heard the cheering of the mindless twerps from here. Telling Zabini that it was time to press the advantage while Harry is vulnerable, you head for the showers to try to make yourself presentable.

The voice of your subconscious tells you that you're lying to yourself if you think that this is still all part of a plan to get Harry to save you. But you push that aside and tell yourself that you're just taking advantage of the Gryffindor and if it is pleasurable in the doing then all the better. Once you are free of your mapped-out future, you will still get rid of him without a second thought. For now though, the relief that he is alive buoys you with a smug satisfaction that all is still going according to plan.

You are less objective when you see him, when real flesh and blood is in your arms and those eyes of his are smiling at you and telling you that you look like shit. You kiss him thoroughly and enjoy it. His lips and arms have become a familiar place to be. Then you settle beside him and make him tell you what happened.

As you listen to the horror of his experience, you find yourself disappointed that Voldemort wasn't there for him to finish off because you are suddenly afraid that if he has to face that again, he might not come out of it. Your respect for him grows, not the least from his guilt at the way he lost control. If it had been you fighting, there would have been a number of dead wizards littering the scene, instead of prisoners. He has such a respect for life, but he will defend to the death what he thinks is right. Silently, you suffer a moment of shame that he has such strength of character while you continue to benefit from the work of others. You are very surprised that he cares what you think about him now. It's not an epiphany as such, but you accept that perhaps you do like the silly prat after all. You mean enough to him that he cares what you think.

He's a hero, he's your hero and he cares what you think.

He asks for your trust, and he asks to be loved. You shock yourself by realising that you do trust him, and you have all along. When he pins you to the bed you smile at him because this is what you can give him. You can give him your trust, and you can give him the desire that you finally acknowledge has been building slowly since the first time you kissed him.

From that moment, things become blurred, lost in the new sensations flooding your body. Kissing Harry whilst lying with him on top of you is much more intimate than before. Your shirt is ripped open and you have no idea when or how it happened, but Harry's mouth is imprinting on your skin and it's like a sweet flame flickering over your chest telling you that you are being warmed by the fires of home.

The intensity and pure pleasure of his caresses, his hands, his teeth, his mouth…_Oh God…_ sends your senses flying and you arch into it like it's something you've done a hundred, a thousand times before. The way he touches you, loves you, needs you and trusts you, overwhelm you and you come shaking and trembling into his mouth. And the whole time he binds you with those eyes, those damned green eyes. You can't look away and you don't want to, for in them you find your answers.

In the recesses of your mind, you dimly recognise this, strange, amazing, consuming emotion and you think it might be love, because you think that at one point in your life you have felt it before. You loved your mother, until your father beat it out of you, reminding you with every cruel painful curse that love is for weaklings. This emotion that you have for Harry is similar… but not the same. This emotion also has desire laced so finely though it, as to be almost indistinguishable from love.

Facing your own desire and what you think might be love is humbling and you lie quietly in his arms afterwards, as if savouring the new fragile you. Thoughts come unbidden of the two of you standing against your father, Voldemort and anyone else that thinks you're both wrong for wanting this, of days spent holding each other, touching and learning everything there is to know about the other. It brings a smile to your face and you wonder suddenly if this were predestined after all. Maybe this was always going to happen. The best laid plans and all that…

He tells you that he loves you, and you almost answer him, but in the end you don't. You know that had it been you, you would doubt the truth of the admission of something as huge as love, had it been said as a response to a similar declaration. Instead, you begin to plan a special evening for the two of you, where you will tell Harry the truth of your plan and how everything changed and you discovered that you love him.

He loves you.

You are loved.

When you leave him sleeping soundly once more, again smiling at how you can make him feel safe, you walk to your dorm with a new outlook. Something fundamental has changed within you and you know what that is. You have a new determination, a new strength and plans for a new life. The words of your father echo in your head and you laugh at him, because you see finally that love does not make you weak. Love gives you strength, love gives a purpose and love gives you hope.

Zabini is on your bed when you reach it. He has a worried look on his face, and you know that the news of the capture of the Death Eaters has spread. He thinks that maybe his father was among those captured and he asks, "What can we do? Can we fix it?" in his whiny voice, and you know that even if you'd wanted to fix things, Zabini would be such a liability. You just wave him away, needing to plan a way to tell your father that you would not be taking the mark at the end of the year.

You also set about preparing this special evening for Harry. You make a list, flowers, soft music, scented candles and warm chocolate sauce for dipping. That makes you smile thinking of licking the sweet warm sauce from Harry's body. You'll send him an owl in the morning and tell him to meet you in the Hall and then bring him back here to your bed, which will have been suitably charmed for silence.

You lie back on your bed, happy, truly happy for the first time in your life and think about the scruffy, scarred Gryffindor that has stolen your heart. Your fascination with his eyes intrigues you and their deep green lights appear in your imagination. As you search them in your memory you see that everything he is always shows in his eyes and you fall asleep knowing that you will always be safe within the circle of his love.

.o0o.

**A/N:** A quote from Jean Racine (1639–1699), French playwright **'Love is not a fire to be shut up in a soul.'**


	5. Chapter 5

Part Nine: Sorry.

.o0o.

**Harry.**

When morning comes, you wake finding Draco gone and for a minute it hurts that once more you are alone. The light in the dorm means that your dorm mates have let you sleep in, which you are grateful for and you lie there remembering the night before. A delicious joy bubbles inside you and you stretch luxuriously, relishing the pull of muscles, before wrapping your arms across your chest and hugging yourself.

From the window comes a tapping and you look across to see a school owl trying to get your attention. It has a letter attached to its foot and you jump up to open the window and retrieve the parchment. When you open it you smile because it's from Draco. You read it a number of times so that the words are memorised. You think that the day cannot get much better than this and with a huge ball of happiness jumping around inside you trying to get out somehow, you head for the showers, a grin on your face a mile wide.

It's while you are standing under the hot spray of water from the jets in the shower that a noise disturbs you. You're not sure what time it is but from the lack of students you've seen, you assume that they must all be in class, and so the noise makes you curious. As you wrap a towel around yourself and enter the bathroom proper, you see Zabini standing at the basins. He's holding a soap dish in one hand and his wand with the other. There is a look of superior smugness on his face and you are too shocked that he's intruded into Gryffindor territory at all, to actually wonder what he wants.

In the end you don't get time to ask. You're standing in the bathroom, wandless and with no glasses on, and Zabini throws the soap dish at you muttering a spell and pointing his wand at it. As a reflex you catch the dish, knowing in a sickening second that you've made possibly a fatal mistake. There is a nauseating drop in your stomach and the last thing you see is Zabini laughing at you, as he disappears from your twirling blurred vision.

When you stop, you fall to the floor with the suddenness, and you hear the laughter from all around you. In dread, you know that your worst nightmare has finally come true and you will have to face Voldemort, almost blind and wandless. You are also alone and no one on earth knows where you are and they have no way of finding you.

A cold, cruel laugh echoes around the room and those present fall silent. You squint at where the laugh came from and see Voldemort, yes, see him despite not having your glasses. There is only one like him and you could never mistake him for anyone else. He tells you that he thinks it funny that the hope of the Wizarding World is in a heap on the floor almost naked as the day he was born. You draw yourself up and stand with some dignity, though this only makes them laugh more.

There had been no time to clear your mind before being whisked away by the portkey and no time to work your up defenses, so when Voldemort probes your mind, you are defenseless and cannot stop him finding your emotions for Draco. He laughs and tells you that it is so cute, but you know he's not serious. Just for kicks he pulls Lucius from the crowd and makes him sit through your last memory of you and Draco together as well. Lucius turns green and then red in anger, looking like he was about to explode.

You can tell that Lucius wants to kill you, but you think that he'll have to wait in line, because you're pretty sure that Voldemort wants you. And he does, because the _Cruciatus_ curse hits you unprepared and you double over in the agony of a thousand knives plunging into you at once. You have no idea of time, but when he releases you from the curse, you are weak and trembling, glad that you had not eaten or you would have lost that and embarrassed yourself further.

Having weakened you, Voldemort grips your chin with his bony fingers and breathes his rancid breath all over your face. He tells you that he has plans for young Draco. He is such a pretty boy and Voldemort has a weakness for blondes. He then tells you in excruciating detail how he will bind him and torture him to erase all memories of you from his mind, so that when he comes to serve his Lord, he will obey his every command and have no thought for the dead Boy Who Lived.

The rage is building again. You know this and you can feel this. It seems like a lifetime ago that you lost control, was it only yesterday? You fight to hold on, but the sick words that Voldemort is spewing resound and feed your anger and fear. You are enraged that he would even think of touching Draco and you remember your vow to him to always protect him and never let anything hurt him. You're starting to tremble and really, you're thankful that none of these Death Eaters were at the battle yesterday, because it means that you have the element of surprise. You look shakily around the room and you see maybe forty Death Eaters in a room that is lined with large candles in sconces on the walls.

_Dear Harry, _

_The coming end of a beautiful day, _

_Heralds a light shining on my way,_

As your breathing intensifies, Voldemort laughs at your reaction and continues telling you in detail how he wants to fuck your boyfriend, use him, damage him, shred him under his fingers and…

You've had enough and the candles explode and the room vibrates. The Death Eaters all stumble about in shock and your eyes dart to the entrances and you block them. The curtains in the room catch fire and the whole place is glowing with the flickering flames. You grab onto Voldemort's robes and hang on tight. Wherever he goes you will be going with him. He's so surprised he says nothing for a second and then he laughs as asks if you are the best that the Wizarding World has to offer.

_A beacon of hope, a ray of light,_

_Follow your heart and be mine tonight_

_Draco_

_PS. Hall 8pm, I'll sneak you into my room. _

You've always had your doubts, right up until this moment, but you know now that you _are_ the best that they have to offer. You will kill him because you are the only one who can. Simple as that. There is no loss of control here; you have complete control and this is the only way you know you will ensure he is dead. With a silent apology to Draco, you turn your eyes onto Voldemort and you pin his gaze to yours. You send every atom of power, every thing that you have with every last ounce of energy that you possess, into him. A green light crackles from your eyes to his and the magic builds between the two of you, static rumbles around the room, smoke fills it, making it hard to breathe and the coughing of the choking Death Eaters fills your ears.

In a sudden flash, the build up of magical energy explodes the room apart and your last thought is of Draco and how you have kept him safe after all. Just like you promised.

.o0o.

**A/N:** A chapter title from Charles Dickens' David Copperfield - **A Light Shines on My Way**


	6. Chapter 6

Part 10: A Chance to Live.

.o0o.

**Draco.**

You sit on your bed, surrounded by the rose petals that you had planned to bathe him in, and a small exquisitely wrapped box in your lap that contained the most precious thing you owned. And you are numb. There isn't even grief to hold on to yet - to hold you up, there's just an aching chasm of irony.

Everything has changed.

A few days later, there is a service in his honour. As there are no parents, no home as such, where people cared whether Harry lived or died, Dumbledore decides to hold the service at Hogwarts. Away from the crowds and the celebrations. Away from the well meaning, adoring public that expected everything from a teenage boy who had the grace and courage to meet their demands, asking nothing in return except that he be allowed to live an ordinary life, with someone who loved him for _who_ he was. Not _what_.

You sit in the back row because that's expected of you, and you listen in numbed grief to the words that echo around the Hall. They tell of Harry's life, all the things you never had a chance to learn about him. You drink them all in, and they sting. Each word reminds you that you hadn't deserved his love; that you found out too late how much of a hero he really was.

As you sit there listening, another thought dawns on you. In more ways than one was Harry a hero. He saved you, but in doing so made it possible for you to save yourself. Blaise had come back to the dorm that night smirking and telling you that you no longer needed to worry about taking down the Boy Who Lived; he was on his way to being the Boy Who Failed. Before you'd stopped to think, your wand was at his throat and you demanded that he tell you what he'd done. Right there, you made your choice. You chose Harry. Right in that moment you saved yourself.

It was already too late for Harry. But it's not too late for you. You hear Dumbledore saying that all Harry really wanted was to be loved. And it reinforces what you plan to do at this service. So, when he asks if there is anyone who would like to say a few words, you push yourself to your feet and clear your throat. As you make your way to the front of the room and stand to face the disbelieving crowd, you hold yourself tall and erect and with dignity. The teachings of your father have not been entirely in vain after all.

You take a parchment from the pocket of your robes. You've had to write all this down because you know with a certainly that you will forget something, or that without the words in front of you to keep you going, you will break. Your voice is still cracked and hoarse, but you're determined. You can give Harry this, too late, but nevertheless, it's yours to give and you know that he would have wanted it.

_Harry was my hero. _

_He told me once that he wanted to feel safe and secure and trusted and loved all at once, and I was the only one who could do that for him. I still don't know why, but then I have never been one to understand matters of the heart. _

_Somehow though, he saw past what you all see, and saw that there was someone worth loving. He loved me. And I loved him. _

_That always was Harry's biggest asset. His capacity to love. Most of us in this room felt it personally at some point, and in his death, we all feel it in that he gave his life for us. How can we feel any more loved than that?_

_I know that he had visions for a future that did not include the pain and the struggle that he lived with everyday. He had great expectations of himself and he knew that he would need to become a killer in order to save us all. He accepted it as his fate, but he would not accept it as ours. _

_I, for one, will never undervalue what he did for me. My life will never be the same again. I made my decision. I made my choice. I chose Harry. His choice was the whole of the Wizarding World, and yet I feel no less loved than any of you here, because he gave me hope. _

_He gave his life for that hope, the hope we carry in each of us that we can make the world a better place in which to live. It's not something that I thought about before Harry. But now that I have it, given freely to me by him, I will never let it go._

_And… sometimes… When I dream, I can dream of living up to the hope he gave to us all. I can dream of living up to his love. _

When you have finished there are tears rolling down your face, and there is not much left of your voice, it's so broken. But there could be heard a pin drop in the Hall, it was so quiet. As you make your way back to your seat, there is still silence and you wonder if they're all shocked or if they're getting ready to lynch you.

Then Grang- _Hermione_ approaches and embraces you, and for the first time since you heard of Harry's death, you break down, and you sob uncontrollably onto her shoulder.

As the days and weeks pass you find that your whole life has changed, become new. Harry's friends have come to see things in you that you didn't know existed, things you think Harry must have seen. Your life is full now and you are, for the most part, content and happy. You keep Harry close to your heart, his love and hope fill you and each night before you sleep, you make a point of visiting the Astronomy Tower to sit quietly and look up at the stars. This is the time of day when you talk with Harry, tell him of all the wondrous things that are now happening in your life and silently thank him for the chance he gave you.

The chance to live.


End file.
